


In for a Penny (In for a Pound)

by enigmaticblue



Series: S6 Tags Series [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-10
Updated: 2010-12-10
Packaged: 2017-10-13 14:43:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/138497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticblue/pseuds/enigmaticblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel doesn’t have many people who would call him “friend.” (Spoilers through 6.10)</p>
            </blockquote>





	In for a Penny (In for a Pound)

Castiel does as Sam requests and kills the monsters Crowley has been torturing. It’s easy enough to put them out of their misery, and Castiel knows that’s what he’s doing. The various monsters cannot be released, and Castiel would not force Dean to play executioner.

 

It’s not the most distasteful thing he’s done this week, and Castiel supposes that says something.

 

He doesn’t want to go back to heaven just yet; he has no desire to face his brothers, or the mess for which he’s indirectly responsible. Castiel wishes hard for something that would keep him here. Even though he could have—and perhaps should have—refused Sam and Dean’s demands and left them to their own devices, he doesn’t regret the decision.

 

Castiel will not soon answer Sam’s call again; he doesn’t like being tricked or toyed with. But if Dean calls—well, that’s another matter, and Castiel doesn’t hesitate when he senses Dean’s call. He flings himself across the intervening space, appearing in Dean’s motel room in the next breath.

 

Dean blinks at him. “Well, that was fast. I didn’t think you’d show up so soon.”

 

“You called,” Castiel replies simply. “And cleanup took some time.”

 

Dean rubs the back of his neck, staring down at the floor. “Yeah, thanks for that. You didn’t have to do it.”

 

“It wasn’t the worst thing I’ve done this week.”

 

“Yeah, but still…” Dean trails off. “We made you our executioner. That’s not the sort of thing you do to a friend.”

 

“What _do_ you do to a friend?” Castiel asks.

 

Dean smiles. “You help him clean up. Sam took off again, you know.”

 

Castiel does not know, and he merely inclines his head in a brief nod, waiting for Dean to continue.

 

He’s no longer certain what this thing between them is—Castiel doesn’t have many people who would call him “friend,” and Dean usually has some ulterior motive for calling on him.

 

Dean sits heavily down on one of the motel beds, then pours a couple of fingers of whiskey into two plastic cups. “Sam doesn’t want his soul back, Cas.”

 

Castiel sits next to Dean because he doesn’t know what else to do, and he takes the cup Dean proffers. “Does that surprise you?”

 

“No, of course it doesn’t,” Dean snaps. “I just—fuck, Cas. I thought he’d miss what we had as much as I do.”

 

Dean throws back his drink in one convulsive movement, his eyes dark with pain. “I don’t know what to do.”

 

Castiel puts a hand on Dean’s knee. “Neither do I.”

 

“You could stay,” Dean suggests, although his voice doesn’t hold much hope. “Hang out with us. Hunt monsters.”

 

“I wish I could,” Cas replies, hearing the longing in his own voice. “But I’m on—furlough, I think is the term you’d use. I’m only delaying the inevitable.”

 

Dean manages a weak smile. “Yeah, I figured you’d say that.” He pours them each another drink. “How long?”

 

“How long do you need me to stay?” Castiel asks. In truth, he should be back in heaven already, but if Dean asks him to stay—

 

Dean shakes his head. “I don’t know. For the night? I don’t want to deal with Sam right now.”

 

“What do you want to do?” Castiel asks, and then decides to rephrase. “What do friends do?”

 

“We’re not watching any more porn,” Dean says firmly.

 

“Because you don’t do that with other guys in the room, and you don’t talk about it,” Castiel supplies.

 

Dean flashes a brief grin. “Yeah.” Then his expression grows serious, and he runs a finger along Castiel’s jaw. “I’m not drunk tonight. Not yet.”

 

Castiel takes that as invitation enough to lean in and press his lips to Dean’s. When he had kissed Meg earlier, he’d been mimicking what he had seen the pizza deliveryman do, what he’d seen Dean do in the past, taking an opportunity to _feel_ again. He’d received no real satisfaction from the exchange, however.

 

Now, though, Dean’s lips are warm and slightly rough. Dean presses his fingers tightly against Castiel’s face, and his other hand clutches Castiel’s shoulder. Castiel opens his mouth when Dean’s tongue presses against his lips, and he lets Dean press him back onto the bed.

 

“Is this what friends do?” Castiel murmurs when Dean pulls back.

 

Dean’s green eyes are dark, his lips red and swollen. “Sometimes,” Dean finally replies. “Is this okay?”

 

“Anything you need,” Castiel says, not bothering to mention that he needs it, too.

 

And maybe Dean understands, because his eyes crinkle just a bit, although he doesn’t smile, and he pulls the tie off Castiel’s neck with one smooth move.

 

Because Castiel _knows_ Dean, he knows that Dean has not done this before. He knows that Dean has never before pushed a man’s coat down his shoulders, or unbuttoned a dress shirt. He knows that when Dean strips him naked and stares at Castiel laid out on the bed, this is the first time he’s been with another man like _this_.

 

“You too,” Castiel says, wanting to see Dean, to see the body he put back together cell by cell.

 

Dean smirks and sits back. “In for a penny,” he murmurs.

 

Castiel doesn’t understand, but his question is cut off when Dean pulls his shirt over his head in one easy movement. Dean’s body excites him in a way that the porn and Meg had not.

 

The physical response is the same, but Castiel feels his heart beating faster, his breathing speeds up, and his throat tightens. His emotions overwhelm him, short-circuiting his ability to think, to even form words.

 

For the first time ever, Castiel gives himself over to the carnal desires of his physical body. Dean touches him tentatively at first, but grows more sure as Castiel groans with pleasure.

 

“Yes,” Castiel says, unable to help himself. “Yes, Dean. Please. _Please._ ”

 

Castiel can think only of Dean’s hand on his cock, Dean touching his chest, tweaking his nipples, and he can’t understand what’s happening, what’s building inside him. When the release comes, Castiel’s back arches, and he cries out wordlessly, panting, his breathing harsh in the otherwise silent room.

 

“You okay?” Dean asks.

 

“Yes,” Castiel says after a moment. “I can—just a minute.”

 

“No rush,” Dean replies easily. “But it was okay?”

 

“Yes.” Castiel knows he sounds fervent, but for the first time he understands why humans have sexual relations so often. He wants to make Dean feel as good as he does right now. “May I touch you?”

 

Dean’s eyebrows go up. “Good recovery time.”

 

Castiel isn’t sure what that means, and he runs a hand down Dean’s bare chest, feeling smooth, warm skin. When he touches Dean’s cock, Dean hisses out a breath.

 

“Is that okay?” Castiel asks immediately.

 

“Oh, yeah,” Dean replies. “I’ll let you know if something isn’t feeling good.”

 

So, Castiel touches Dean, indulging in his curiosity, cataloging Dean’s reactions. He traces the solid muscles of Dean’s thighs, remembering when Dean’s legs had bracketed his own, holding him together against Raphael’s trap. Castiel kisses the underside of Dean’s bicep, remembering the bulge of muscle when Dean held him.

 

Castiel licks Dean’s nipple, wanting to know what Dean’s skin tastes like, and he strokes Dean’s cock, echoing Dean’s movements.

 

“Oh, God, Cas.”

 

Castiel takes that as encouragement, and he strokes Dean with a steady hand. He takes in Dean’s responses, changes his grip until Dean’s hips are moving restlessly under his hand. When Dean comes, it’s messy and hot and strange, but Castiel finds himself fascinated nevertheless.

 

“Cas?”

 

“Does it always feel like this?” Castiel asks, although he can’t put his feelings into words.

 

Dean frowns briefly, and then his expression clears. “It does when you’re with a friend.”

 

Castiel places a hand over Dean’s heart. “I’d like to do this again.”

 

Dean smiles. “I’m going to need a little more time than that.”

 

“Maybe on my next furlough,” Castiel replies.

 

Dean touches Castiel’s cheek. “We should get cleaned up.” It’s done in the blink of an eye, and Dean lets out a bark of laughter. “Never mind. We should sleep then.”

 

“You sleep,” Castiel replies. “I’ll keep watch.”

 

“Okay,” Dean says, and his eyes drift shut. “Wake me up before you leave.”

 

“Of course,” Castiel murmurs. “In for a penny, right?”

 

Dean goes to sleep with a smile on his face, his hand spread out over Castiel’s chest.


End file.
